


i'd be the prom queen if crying was a contest

by maybeitsjanae



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, WandaVision (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, F/F, First Kiss, Fluff, Prom, i don't know man they're soft and gay and i miss them, loosely based on prom dress by mxmtoon, running through an empty school (affectionate)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-17
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-25 21:40:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30095502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maybeitsjanae/pseuds/maybeitsjanae
Summary: this was born out of me listening to prom dress by mxmtoon and then making this (https://twitter.com/sapphictomaz/status/1371945857327726597) tweet before i decided to suck it up and write it myself. So here we are, 2.5k words of pure self-serving fluff.i also noticed i never described their dresses in insane detail so i found photos of ones close to what i was imagining for them and so i put them here (https://imgur.com/a/tMADT7A) if you want to see! they're not perfect matches but they work yknow? anyways!!! i hope you enjoy this.
Relationships: Darcy Lewis/Monica Rambeau
Comments: 12
Kudos: 60





	i'd be the prom queen if crying was a contest

**Author's Note:**

> this was born out of me listening to prom dress by mxmtoon and then making this (https://twitter.com/sapphictomaz/status/1371945857327726597) tweet before i decided to suck it up and write it myself. So here we are, 2.5k words of pure self-serving fluff. 
> 
> i also noticed i never described their dresses in insane detail so i found photos of ones close to what i was imagining for them and so i put them here (https://imgur.com/a/tMADT7A) if you want to see! they're not perfect matches but they work yknow? anyways!!! i hope you enjoy this.

Monica Rambeau. Daughter of Maria Rambeau. Maria Rambeau, former Air Force pilot. Founder of S.W.O.R.D. Monica was one of the toughest girls at her school. Toughest  _ people _ if Darcy was being honest. She had seen Monica clock more than a few asshole guys during her time there, and she didn’t seem afraid in the slightest. Benefits of having a military mother, Darcy guessed. 

But now, sitting here, in her purple prom dress, sat Monica Rambeau. Bent over and hugging her knees and crying in the otherwise quiet, brightly-lit hallway. It wasn’t a great place to cry, Darcy thought to herself. Anyone could turn that corner and see you. Not to mention all the open space. Where are you supposed to hide?  _ Amateur _ , she thought.

Darcy had just left the gymnasium, or-- well-- tonight it was being called an “underwater grotto” or some shit. She didn’t care that much. She had left to go to her locker to get money for a friend, she’d made a bet on how long it would take the teachers to notice that  _ someone _ (definitely not her,  _ never _ her.) spiked the punch. It had been about an hour, and no one had noticed. Darcy said they would’ve noticed by now. So now she owed money to Jimmy Woo. But all of that was very easily forgotten when she had seen Monica sitting in the hallway.

It was a small school, so even though Monica and Darcy had never really interacted much, they knew of each other. It didn’t hurt that Monica was pretty well known for the whole “my mom founded S.W.O.R.D'' thing. That, and they shared a few classes. But seeing her like this-- it was weird. It didn’t feel like the Monica she had seen in the hallways, the one that wasn’t afraid to get in front of guys if they were harassing someone. The Monica that was at the top of all her fitness classes, the Monica that she watched destroy nearly everyone in debate club. This was a different Monica. A softer one. One that was hurting. It was strange to see, but Darcy was weirdly fascinated. It was an overwhelming display of emotion from Monica that was frankly more than a little out of character. 

When Monica noticed Darcy had found her, her eyes widened like a deer caught in headlights. Darcy heard muttered curses from her as she frantically tried to wipe away tears and steady her breathing.

“Darcy--”

“Hey, I’m not gonna tell anybody. That’s an asshole move. And I’d like to think I’m not an asshole,” Darcy half-whispered, trying to keep her voice down. They were still fairly close to the gymnasium-- close enough to still hear the muffled booming of the music from inside. The last thing Monica needed was more people finding her.

She still didn’t say anything. Darcy couldn’t blame her. Crying on your prom night when you have the reputation of being the “tough one” probably isn’t a great look. 

Her locker mission forgotten entirely now, Darcy sighed and moved to sit next to Monica on the floor, her dress fanning out around her as she lowered herself to the ground. 

“You okay?” Monica wouldn’t look at her. She just sniffled and took a deep breath.  
“Depends. We’re graduating next month and I still haven’t chosen a university. Or a major. Or anything about my future really.” Darcy opened her mouth to speak, but Monica continued before she could get a word out. She figured she should probably just let her talk.

“Not only that, but I’m alone at my senior prom. Not exactly a surprise, but that doesn’t mean it hurts any less. If I’m being honest, all the guys are kinda dicks so I’m not fully mad that I missed it."

"I'm not a dick,” Darcy said, crossing her arms. Monica turned to look at her, finally.

"You're also not a guy."

"So?" 

Okay, maybe that was too far. Darcy could tell because Monica’s eyes widened for a moment and she turned away again.  _ Great job, Darcy. _ She didn’t know what that was. Flirting? It certainly didn’t seem like it. And if it was, it didn’t matter much because Monica had turned away. Which isn’t exactly what you want when you’re flirting with a girl. 

Darcy let her head fall back against the lockers with a light thud. She sighed. 

“Yeah my night’s not going great either. I know  _ I’m  _ the one that found _ you _ in the hallway crying, but leave me in that gym for another hour and the roles might be reversed,” she chuckled.

“Dare I ask why?” Monica replied, the corner of her mouth twitching up slightly. The first signs of a smile. Whatever Darcy was doing to try to cheer her up, it was working. If only a little bit. 

“Meh. Life shit. I don’t know. Same as you, the future’s weird. I’m not ready for it. Personal problems, et cetera.” She paused and turned to lean sideways against the lockers, now fully facing Monica. It made Darcy more than a little anxious, being this close to a girl-- especially since that girl was Monica Rambeau. She’s kind of a badass. “But this isn’t about me. This is about you,” she continued with a small huff. “Here. I took two.” 

Darcy pulled something off her wrist and held it out to Monica. It was one of the party favours from inside the dance. Darcy didn’t like the theme much (claiming it had “been done too many times already,”) but the jewelry wasn’t terrible. She had taken two beaded bracelets with beads reminiscent of shells and rocks (see: giant banner over gym doors with the words “UNDER THE SEA” in all capitals), and now she was giving one to Monica. A peace offering. Maybe a way to say ‘hey, I promise I’m not going to tell the entire school I found you crying at prom.’

“I don’t need both. They’re not  _ super _ great bracelets- I mean really, nothing that comes out of this hellhole school is particularly ‘great’ but hey, it’s kinda cute.” 

When Monica made no attempt to take the bracelet, Darcy huffed and gently took her hand. “Y’know, usually when someone offers you a gift, you take it,” she mumbled, giving the other girl a soft smile. 

Monica really was beautiful. That was nothing new, despite Monica’s words, there were many guys who wanted to take her to prom. Darcy didn’t know if she rejected them, or they just never asked, or what. She was almost universally admired-- even by the teachers. And now, in her long, flowy purple dress and her hair up in something that Darcy could only describe as space buns, it was an understatement to say she looked like a princess.

Darcy rolled the bracelet over Monica’s hand and hummed contently when it was finally in place. Monica just looked down at her wrist, using her other hand to play with some of the shell beads on the bracelet. 

“See! Kinda cute. It goes nice with your dress,” she said, smiling a little. Her hand lingered, holding Monica’s a moment longer than was probably necessary. Darcy let go, bringing both of her hands to her lap so she could fiddle with part of her dress. A few moments passed before either of them spoke.

“I wanted to wear a suit.”

“Hm?”

“The dress.” Monica paused and absentmindedly fluffed the fabric resting on her legs. “It’s nice, it’s just not me.”

“Oh.” Silence hung in the air. Darcy had considered wearing a suit too for a moment, but decided against it and rented a dress instead-- it was a dark teal, to go with her eyes. But she had a feeling she liked her dress more than Monica liked hers. Darcy’s dress still felt like  _ hers _ . Monica said it wasn’t like that for her.

“I’m sorry,” Darcy mumbled. “Your parents?”

Monica chuckled dryly. “Nope. Just me being my own worst enemy. Again. My mom would’ve supported me all the way. Carol too.” She said the last part quieter, almost inaudible, as if it was more to herself than it was to the girl beside her. Darcy didn’t mention it.

“I get it. I thought about it too, but convincing my parents would be the  _ biggest  _ hassle and I’m honestly not ready to have  _ that _ conversation with them.”

“ _ That _ conversation?” Monica asked.  _ Shit. Yeah, I’m not outing myself right now. _

“It’s-- nothing. I don’t know, a suit just seemed hard. And I honestly don’t mind dresses so--” she paused to fluff her dress. “--this is fine.”

As if on cue, the song inside the gymnasium switched from a dance pop song that Darcy couldn’t recognize, to a slow song that she could. Put Your Head On My Shoulder, Paul Anka. The sound was muffled, but she could still make out the lyrics. It was a pretty old song, Darcy was surprised they were playing it. Before she realized what she was doing, she was back on her feet.

Darcy extended a hand towards Monica, who was growing increasingly confused.

“What are you doing--”

“Dance with me?” That was one way to get Monica to stop asking about ‘ _ that  _ conversation.’ She was stunned into silence. After a few moments of confused staring, she spoke.

“Okay wait-- what?” 

Darcy laughed. 

“I’m sad, you’re sad, it’s our prom. If we’re sad on our prom night we might as well be sad together right? And it might just be me, but I want to dance at least once at my prom. So… may I have this dance?”

Monica rolled her eyes, smiling for possibly the first time during their conversation. “Fine.” She begrudgingly took Darcy’s hand and let her help her up. “But I’m not going back in there. Not right now.” She pointed towards the gymnasium.

Darcy put her hands up in mock surrender. “And I won’t make you. You can still hear the music right?” Monica nodded. “Then we can stay out here.”

“M’lady,” Darcy said, jokingly bowing as she attempted to stay steady in her heels. Monica scoffed. “What, is this not how the guys do it?” she asked, feigning sincerity. 

“No, it’s really not,” Monica said, letting her arms drape over Darcy’s shoulders. 

“Good thing I’m not a guy then,” Darcy replied, giving her a cheeky smile before completing the position and placing her hands on Monica’s waist. 

“Yeah. Good thing.”

As they began to sway to the music, Darcy could feel her cheeks grow warm and she  _ desperately _ hoped that she had put on enough makeup to hide it from view. She had never been this close to someone, romantically, before. Was this romantic?  _ We’re friends. We’re actually not even that, we’ve barely talked to each other. Acquaintances, then. _ And no matter how many times Darcy tried to tell herself that, the way they were looking at each other never changed. Acquaintances don’t look at each other like that. Not even friends do.

They stayed like that for a while, letting their dance spill into each new song as the last one ended. It was peaceful. You could no longer tell that Monica had cried, and Darcy… Well Darcy was still Darcy, her anxiety growing every time they stepped slightly closer to each other. She was anxious but it wasn’t an uncomfortable feeling. She welcomed it, actually. It was the kind of anxiety people get when something new is happening, new and unfamiliar but not necessarily negative. Scary, but a good scary. 

By the third song, they had gotten so close that there was no point in stopping their foreheads from gently touching as they danced. They smiled when it happened, looking at each other through their lashes. It was nice. 

But then they were both moving closer. And closer. And they were leaning in. And the anxiety came full force again, as it always inevitably did. But this time, Darcy ignored it.

And then they were kissing. And it felt the way it was supposed to feel-- fireworks, electricity-- it felt like how they said it felt in the storybooks. It was a new experience for both of them-- and neither of them wanted it to end. But even in storybooks, the kiss always ends. And so did this one.

“Darcy Lewis?” a voice yelled from around the corner. They both jumped back from each other, Darcy hitting her arm on a locker and cursing. The voice yelled again, this time causing them both to stare directly at each other, then back at the source of the noise.

“Shit,” Darcy muttered, walking back towards Monica. “Okay, we definitely have to discuss what just happened, obviously not right now, but soon,” she said quickly. Monica nodded, laughing a little before remembering someone was currently screaming for the girl she just kissed. 

“And right now, I think our first priority would be… running.”

Monica’s eyes widened and Darcy wished she could kiss the worried look off her face. But she couldn't. Not right now at least, and definitely not here. Not around all these people.  
“Darcy what the hell is going on--”

“Did you leave anything in the gym?”  
“I-- no.”

“Okay. Let’s go.”

Darcy grabbed Monica’s hand and ran, laughing. She was suddenly very thankful that her dress wasn’t long enough to trip her. Monica couldn’t say the same, but she had grabbed a handful of fabric and it seemed to work for the time being. Their heels made loud clicking sounds against the hallway floor as they weaved through doorways and ran down stairs. Neither of them had ever ran through the school like this, and it was an experience that they couldn’t really describe. Darcy turned her head to look at Monica and smiled at her, receiving only amused confusion in response.

“Darcy, seriously, what are we doing? Was that a teacher? Why was a teacher calling for you?” Monica was unsurprisingly finding running this fast, in heels no less, very easy. Darcy, not so much.  
“I’ll explain in a minute,” she replied, rushing her words out between breaths as she continued running.

With a loud clang, Darcy shoved open a door leading out to the back parking lot of the school, the cold evening air rushing over both of them as they stopped for a moment to breathe. 

“So I might’ve spiked the punch.”

“YOU WHAT?” Monica dropped Darcy’s hand and stumbled backwards slightly. “Darcy, you can’t be serious-- that’s illegal! We’re all minors!”

“You’re telling me you’ve never drank?” Darcy cocked an eyebrow and placed a hand on her hip.  
Monica scoffed nervously, looking away. “We aren’t talking about me.”

“Aha! Point proven!” Darcy pointed an accusing finger at the other girl. “Also, this is really not the time to get mad at me considering you’re kind of an accomplice now.” Darcy smirked at her. “Also, you, Monica Rambeau, kissed  _ me _ . So you’re an even bigger accomplice.”

Monica crossed her arms, staring at her with one eyebrow raised. “You kissed  _ me _ !”

“That’s conjecture.” 

“Darcy I swear to god--” Monica would’ve continued, but she heard loud footsteps coming from inside the school, and they both figured this was not the time to continue this argument. To say they were panicking was an understatement.

“Let’s?” Darcy asked, pointing to her car. 

“Yep-- Yeah. Right now maybe.”

**Author's Note:**

> woooo these bitches gay good for them!!! i hope you enjoyed, i had a lot of fun writing it :]


End file.
